


River of blood

by horrorriz



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Drowning, Graphic Description, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, M/M, Nygmobblepot, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, You Have Been Warned, extremly trigger heavy, this is pure pain, trigger warnings deluxe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 01:29:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrorriz/pseuds/horrorriz
Summary: Ed stands at the pier watching Oswald sink down towards his death, but decides to jump in after him.Despite realizing nothing could ever be the same again.





	1. Regret

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING
> 
> This fic is NOT easy reading, and if you have any issues with graphic descriptions of violence, blood, drowning and especially mental illness and self harm, this is not the fic for you.  
> You have been warned.

“I don’t love you.”

The shot rang in Ed’s ears, blood started to seep out of the fresh bullet wound from Oswald’s abdomen. It felt like the world was spinning and he struggled to keep his stance, grabbing a hold of Oswald’s collar he regained a little bit of balance.

He saw the pleading in the other man’s eyes, sheer desperation, but no fear, just… Disappointment, sadness.  
There was no turning back now.

So Ed pushed the man bleeding out before him into the water, he didn’t even struggle, like he had accepted his fate, or that he didn’t see the point in fighting anymore. Whether it was because he had been merely moments from his inevitable death, or simply the staggering heartbreak of watching the man he loved not only turn him down, but want him dead.

Well there was no use dwelling on that now. He watched as Oswald sank, disappearing into the cloud of his own blood. Ed kept his gaze into the dark water long after his best friend had been swallowed by the foggy depths.

 

There he was, having reached rock bottom. A couple of years back he could never even had imagined what was awaiting him.

He had killed his girlfriend, the woman he had dreamed of for so long, the woman who’s boyfriend he had killed to save her, or was it to save himself? No matter, in the end it was Ed himself that had been the real threat when his hands grasped around her neck, pressing the air and life out of Kirsten Kringle.

 

For the first time in his life he had found someone to trust, someone he did not have to fear. A man who finally understood and accepted him for his entirety. A real friend.

Oswald had showed Edward his true capacity, just how far he was able to go, what he could become.

In the end that was still nothing other than true. Here he was, a cold blooded killer, finally a villain.

 

Strangely, in that moment of pure defeat, because losing your very best friend wasn’t a win. He didn’t shed a thought towards Isabella.

All he could think about was Oswald’s lungs burning like fire in his wet prison. Desperately holding onto the little air he had gotten down with him. Until he simply couldn’t, until his body started to shut down with the lack of oxygen fueling his brain to pump out blood into his veins, blood that was left to bleed out of his open wound anyway. Dying at several ways at once. Until he simply was no more.

Just Ed, once again, truly and undoubtedly, alone.

  


The cold water hit him like a brick, his body screamed at him to get up again, he would truly die down here.

He just swam deeper, down and beyond. Eyes stinging from the dirty water when he struggles to keep them open in order to rummage the marine landscape for what was undoubtedly, his very reason to live.

That was his focus as the pressure was doing his head in, bursting his eardrums as he gained depth far too fast.  
Ed imagined this was how Oswald felt as he began to drown, he could feel his own chest sting and burn from the lack of air, his whole body ached in the ice cold water.  
Then just when he was about to give up and let the river swallow him, unite him with Oswald. He could just make out a faint shape rested on the river floor, slowly moving forward by the stream.

 

Getting the limp body back on the pier took the last power adrenaline could provide Ed, he grasped for his glasses he had left on the ground, needing his sight back. He wanted to lay back and breathe, his body wanting to shut down, cooled to it’s core by the icy waters, all Ed wanted to do was to sleep… Slumber as peacefully as the man beside him.

He slapped himself and dragged his legs over to Oswald. No power left in his arms after the swimming but he pressed his hands onto the lifeless man before him hard and fast anyway.

One… Two… Three… He listened, nothing.  
One… Two… Three… Four… Five. Still nothing. Maybe he had waited too long and there was no longer any use, no one to change your mind about and save.  
One… Two… Three… Four… Five… Six… Seven… Eight… Nine… Ten.  
Ed pressed his ears to the heart of his friend. It was faint, very very faint, but it was a sound, a beat.

Okay, okay. He could do this, he had to. No one else would do it for him. He whispered an apology to the unconscious body that the first time had to be like this. Before bending over him, taking a single breath of his own before pressing his lips onto Oswald’s and breathe into them, a firm grip onto his nose.  
His heart was beating but it wouldn’t for much longer unless he got the water out of his lungs to provide oxygen to fuel it.

The other man coughed up several mouthfuls of water and Ed sat him up to help guide the liquid out. The worst was over but he was still not conscious, and the bullet wound… This could have all been for nothing because he was so close to bleeding out already.

Pulling his belt and jacket off he made a compress, the belt used to hold it tight together around Oswald’s stomach. It was far from good and the fabric was soaking, but at least it was cold which would help stop the bleeding if only for a short while. Hopefully it would be enough for him to get to Lee.  
He wasn’t popular with her, not after the whole Kringle dying thing, they had been friends, after all. Oswald wasn’t high on her list of favorite people either, but if there was one thing he knew about the woman it was that she wouldn’t let anyone die under any circumstances.

With that in mind he carefully laid the half dead man in the backseat of the car and rushed towards the GCPD.

  


 

When Nygma laid his dying friend on the examination table of the police morgue Thompkins just looked between the unconscious man, face white from the loss of blood and low body temperature, and the taller frame of Edward Nygma, wearing a pleading face for her to save what was the most important human in the world for him.

None of these men deserved to live, but she had once made a oath as a doctor to always do all in her power to save a life. In the end it wasn’t up to her to decide on their fate, she couldn’t play god like that.

She kindly asked her former coworker to leave, as in his current state of shock and desperation he would only be in the way.

 

“Go get a clean and dry set of clothes and then come back, you’re close to hypothermia with those soaked clothes. What use are you to him if he wakes up and you’re dead?”

She escorted him out with a blanket over his shoulders and made sure someone gave him a ride home.

  


 

The drops of the shower that should have felt warming, may have thawed Ed’s chilled body, but did nothing for the ice he felt on the inside.

Having attempted to kill his best friend, he still wasn’t sure why he had tried to save him, after the ultimate betrayal of killing the woman he loved. The only thing he knew, what he had felt after the second he pushed him into the water, was that he simply could not live without him. It was very selfish in a way, so perhaps he couldn’t blame Oswald for his sins…

 

Ed smashed his head into the tiled wall of his shower, so hard it broke skin a little bit. It felt as a part of his pain and confusion trickled away with the drops of blood mixing with the water coming down the drain. His head was spinning from the impact and he sank down to the floor. Curling up with his head between his legs while the water poured over, blurring his vision further than just not wearing glasses. Wrapping his long limbs around his legs he dug nails into the skin, leaving long trails of damaged vessels, blood surfacing in places.

It felt as claws scratched him on the inside, trying to get out.

 

He stood up on wobbly legs, staggering out of the shower, grabbing a hold of the sink for balance. The breaking man looked up into the mirror who’s reflection seemed to come alive, something that had not happened... Not since with Isabella, before then with miss Kringle. Had it happened with Oswald? With him he always seemed to feel... Whole, like he didn’t just want a part of him, but the whole turmoil that was Edward Nygma.

 

Ed ran his fist into the mirror, breaking it, shards flying everywhere. He smashed it again and again, skin on his knuckles breaking and bleeding, dripping into the sink below.

In pure panic to get the pain to stop he grabbed a shard, clutching it hard enough for the sharp edges to dig deep into his skin, more red drizzling down his arms.

Staring into the red mess that was his bathroom sink, back to the shard, all of his past few years coming back to him, shortly followed by his not so kind childhood. It was like he was breaking in all ways at once, just like Oswald had been suffering earlier that day.  
The only one who deserved to suffer like that was Ed himself, he was nothing without Oswald, and now they could never be the same, even if he would recover.

With that he pressed the shard into his wrists, diagonally, not horizontally along his arms. If he died he wouldn’t be able to suffer enough, he wasn’t worthy of such a relief.

  


 

When Ed came back into the morgue he was covered with bandages and plasters, he had wrapped and attempted to hide them well, but some patches on his arms were bleeding through, staining his sleeves.

Lee had to do her best not to gasp, she knew from experience a shocked reaction would only make it worse. Recognizing the behavior of self harm right away from her time at Arkham Asylum.  
She was aware of Ed being sick, it was part of the reason he had turned around and acted like he had, deep down his actions were to blame on some deep mental disturbances. But she didn’t know it was so bad that he would hurt himself, not like that, she couldn’t recall him having done that before. It was new.  
So the question remained, what had triggered it, what changed?

The medical examiner watched as the very damaged man sat by Cobblepot, cradled his still fairly cold hand.

Or perhaps the question was, _who_ had changed him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't lie, this was very heavy to write. Being someone who suffers from mental illness myself.  
> But I wanted to really describe the inner turmoil Ed was feeling, to make the reader feel what he felt. And I'm kinda sorry about that.
> 
> This gets happier later on... But there's still some pain awaiting.
> 
> Please give kudos and comment for motivation to keep writing, let me know if you want me to continue.


	2. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald wakes up to the not so pleasant memories of being shot. Both him and Ed do a lot of internal dwelling on each other and their past, trying to make sense of their complicated relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit... Easier than the last, but it is still rather (probably heavy) on angst so read with caution.

“Ed?”

  
Oswald instinctively called out for his chief of staff, his very best friend and the love of his life. It burned to breathe, like someone had recently set his lungs on fire or forced him to ran a marathon, the latter was naturally impossible in his crippled condition. He wanted to sit up but it felt like the room was spinning. Closing his eyes again he tried to remember what had happened.

  
  
Perking up by the sound of Oswald’s voice, Ed ran over to him, grabbing a hold of the hand he had been clutching onto so tightly for the last few hours. Silently praying, or whatever he believed in, to let him be alright. 

More than anything he wanted him to wake up, let him heal and they would go back to normal. Running the city from the light and shadows in the mayor’s office and criminal underground.   
  
But Edward knew better.   
  
  


Feeling the presence of Ed made Oswald calm down a little bit, he was however still very confused.

  
“What happened? Where am I?”

  
He attempted to sit up in order to inspect his surroundings better. A sharp pain in his abdomen forced him to slip back down in bed, his bed. He couldn’t see very well but he recognized the familiar smell of his bedroom at the manor.

Trying to place the pain he went through the happenings of the previous days he could remember. Ed.. Ed had been kidnapped! He went to get him, Barbara… Ed was there, he was fine, thank god.   
  
  
_ I wanted you to die knowing you were not capable of love. _

_  
_Despite the pain Oswald sat right up in bed, eyes wide he pulled out his bedside drawer for the switchblade he had hidden in there.

Ed had tried to kill him.

He held out the knife against Ed who had shot up and held out his arms for protection. He looked sad, but not surprised.   
  
  
“You.. You tried to kill me!” 

  
Stating the obvious didn’t exactly help make the situation better, but Oswald felt compelled to do so.

His instincts were telling him to get out of there or kill the threat, but he was unable to do either. His body still so severely hurt he could barely move, the rapid action he had done in order to sit up had possibly wretched the stitches because it burned. However it was a numb pain, indicating he had probably been given pain relief. 

Unable to leave, he was at mercy of the very man who had tried to kill him. Left in a prison of his own home.

  
  
After having regained certainty Oswald wouldn’t kill him, or more correctly, couldn’t, Ed sat back down in the chair he had placed near the bed.

He didn’t say anything. Head low, eyes on the floor.   
It was Oswald who had nearly died, but Edward was the true ghost in the room.

Not sure where his relationship with Oswald stood anymore, either in regard to his feelings or Oswald's own. He didn’t want to cross any boundaries and so the waters remained untouched. Suffering in his own guilty mind, ready to snap once again any second, Ed felt like a ticking bomb of pain and insanity. Was this going to be his life once again? He had grown so accustomed to the safe space in Oswald’s shared guiding light, never having felt so sane and collected before, it was addictive to make the feeling remain steady.

Now it was all gone, destroyed and Nygma was left burned down to his core. 

His wish had come true, Oswald had survived, but to what cost? So he could live in hatred towards Ed, trust beyond broken and unmendable.   
  
  
A silent tension filled the small space, so thick and toxic both men felt they were choking on air itself. Not moving a muscle, lost in their own minds, trying to figure out what’s next.

  
  
Oswald was the one to break the painful silence, needing to adjust and lay back against the fluffed back pillows… He snorted, annoyed at the obvious gesture.

He was a fool, thinking he could have love and not be punished for it. Ed had been right that time in his apartment where he told Penguin love was his greatest weakness. He had wanted to stab him right there, perhaps he should have, it would have spared him a lot of pain and hassle.

Though in all honesty, the result would have been him never having reached this point, the thought reminding him of his now fragile, possibly ruined spot as mayor. 

He needed to get out of here, take back his empire and strike back towards Ed at full force.

He eyed the silent man in the corner, not that he would need that much to take him down right now by the looks of it. Something wasn’t right with him. 

Despite it all Oswald couldn’t help but to be concerned. Knowing Ed enough to see the signs of him slipping, it was so obvious. It always seemed to get worse, pushing Ed to question himself further, when he was in a state of romantic love. He had seen it with Isabell-whatever-her-name-was and from what he had heard about Ed’s ex before that. These women that were so clearly beneath him. He internally rolled his eyes. 

Worst of all, he couldn’t believe he had fallen for another that shortly after, what was he even mad at Oswald for if he had let her go and moved on already? Who was the unlucky soul waiting to be crushed by Ed in a near future?

  
  


 

As the day moved on Ed brought Oswald water, offered more pain killers and tried to give him the best treatment there was. 

Oswald was getting uncomfortable flashbacks to the time in Ed’s former apartment, where it had all begun. He had been wary of Ed then, a stranger taking him in. However this time he had solid grounds for doubt, no intentions of warming up and having a sing-a-long.

There was an urgent need to get out of there, but he needed to await the right moment, not physically strong enough to incapacitate Ed and get out of there without a plan.   
  
  
Darkness fell over the empty mansion. Way past bedtime, Ed had finally retreated to his own room and bed for some long overdue proper sleep, which was Oswald’s cue to leave. Far from well, he still managed to stand up, grabbing his cane that had been kindly placed near the bed. Hobbling forward as fast as he could, swaying somewhat still lightheaded from the bloodloss.

Knowing the car was still parked up front, and no one else but the two enemies currently residing in the mansion, that was his so called grand plan. Not so much big as it was the easiest option he could manage in his current condition.

Normally he would refrain from driving on his own, it’s not that he couldn’t, but would rather not, as he had some unpleasant memories of vehicles he wasn’t very fond of. But with no one else around and his life possibly further on the line, it called for drastic measures, in his mind at least.  
  
  
Stitches that had begun to unravel before had now burst completely after the much too physical effort of a sprint to the car. He fell into the vehicle rather than entering normally, but started it despite the pain, there was no time to dwell on a little bit of pain or blood.

Speeding out of the manor premises he actually thought he was going to make it for a minute, until the blood loss took his toll and hit him with full force, making his eyes flutter and fall shut along with him losing consciousness.

Foot still on the gas pedal, the car ended up with the front crashed right into a nearby tree. Though Oswald was so badly hurt already that not even the loud bang woke him up. It did however make Ed sit up in bed with a sudden gasp, thinking he had just woken up from a bad dream. But seeing the faint line of smoke outside the window, indicated that the sound had been real.

He rushed out and towards the car that had caught a slight ignite under the destroyed hood.   
With mere matters of minutes, maybe seconds, before the fire would reach the oil and fuel, possibly making the car explode, Ed ripped Oswald out. He proceeded with dragging the man out as far as he could before picking him up into his arms to run, at least try to, despite his size Cobblepot was still a fully grown man and heavier than one would guess.

The car exploded behind them and Ed for a minute thought he was in some bad action movie, never again would he think it lame with the time frame to get out of a burning car. Terrified, he managed to get back inside before his legs gave way, making him fall onto his knees, not the most pleasant thing to do with the added weight of another man as. No time to dwell about trivial distress, he got up to staggering feet and hurt kneecaps, tears running down his cheeks and blood staining his night shirt from Oswald’s reopened wound.

  
  


 

Oswald woke up feeling even dizzier than before, but shortly regained the memories of his whereabouts and the previous night. His head aching from the impact of the crash, he attempted to steady it enough to find the door leading out of the room, still feeling the urgency of escaping. The pain was not in the slightest better, he had probably ended up rupturing his stitches once again... But he couldn’t remember how he had gotten out of the car and back into the manor. 

Moving his right hand to feel the fresh bandaging, his arm was left suspended, stuck. Strange... He found himself handcuffed to the bed frame. Well then, if that didn’t prove the hostage situation, he didn’t know what did. 

His left arm was equipped with an IV tube taped to him, leading to a bag of blood elevated on a rack next to the bed, his second, by the looks of the empty bag hanging beside.  
  
  
Continuing the search of the room for any means to get free, his eyes landed on the lone chair Ed had sat in previous day, in which he was residing in once again, fast asleep.

Back when they were living together, he had watched Edward nod off every now and then after particularly late nights. Oswald was used to seeing him in a peaceful slumber of exhaustion, this was far from that. His brows in a deep frown, eyes pressed shut, twitching slightly as to give a insight to whatever dread they were shown by the depths of his own mind. It didn’t take a genius to see he was clearly very troubled, hurting even. 

Oswald found his eyes lingering on the sleeping man before him, his former best friend, someone he had trusted, one he thought cared not too much unlike his mother had, the only man he had ever loved… At least what he assumed as love, given the stories his mother used to tell him. Always so worried he would end up with someone beneath him, not worthy of her beautiful, clever son. She would describe this heart wretched feeling of equal pain and pleasure. That certainly sounded what he felt for Ed… He desperately wanted it to be in past tense, but that would be a lie to himself, and deceiving oneself was the start of an uncertainty that never ended well.

He glared at Edward as if he could read his mind in his restless slumber.   
  
  
A humble part Oswald had not entirely believed Ed’s denial of reciprocated love. There was something about how he would act around Oswald, watching him in a manner not unlike how he would look at Ed in awe.

An unspoken, forbidden truth floating between them. Both cursed if ever spoken out loud, a spell which Oswald had been the one to break.  
  
  
No more, never again would he allow himself to be distracted by such poignant emotions. He couldn’t afford to be weakened like that again, it almost got him killed. In fact, it actually did, and the lingering question to why Ed had saved him remained painfully unanswered. 

Why was he alive, when Ed had been the one to pull the trigger? Surely, his inner struggles couldn’t be that grave? He took another look at the tall man spilling out of the much too small chair, twisting his head, bothered by some kind of nightmare. Or could they?

One fact was clear, Nygma suffered from serious struggles with impulse, given his past. He had warned Ed of this exact thing, it was that worry for him that got them into this mess in the first place. He would kill when things didn’t go exactly like planned, when he got nervous, uncertain. Shattering his fragile state of sanity. Then break down in remorse. Did Edward regret killing him?

No matter, it was most likely he would do it again nevertheless, again and again. How could that possibly work, how could they even attempt to get back as things were and remain friends. Or whatever delusion Ed currently believed, in saving him, nurturing him back to health like this.

Oswald simply couldn’t live like that, always on edge. Never knowing when the one he was supposed to trust most, would attempt to kill him next. Or worse, when he would succeed.

  
  


 

When Ed finally woken up later in the afternoon, unknowing of having been watched in his sleep. He felt guilty about dozing off when he needed to constantly keep his patient of sort under observation. He hurried to check if the second bag of blood have been injected correctly, when that was cleared he went to examine the bandages. Somewhat soaked they needed changing to avoid infection.  
Swapping the empty blood bag for a clear fluid filled one, in which he injected some pain relief into, knowing Oswald would never complain about the pain no matter how severe he better be ahead of him.

Equipping himself with a pair of clean rubber gloves he began to unravel the bandages and get to work in changing them.

 

That’s when Oswald saw it. That he had not noticed before was beyond him, the man was covered in bandaging for christ’s sake. But with his sleeves rolled up just a little bit to keep out of the way, he could see the gauzes rolled tightly around both his forearms, dried blood of wounds that had previously opened up stained them in a dirty looking pattern. 

Was that what he thought it was? 

_ Ed, what have you done? _ He thought, feeling worry mixed with a slight panic.

In that very moment alone his anger was replaced with guilt, as if it was  _ his  _ fault the man had reached a point of misery he would do such a drastic act to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that wasn't too bad, I tend to hurt poor Ed a little bit too much! 
> 
> Thank you everyone who have commented on this work and bookmarked it, you mean alot to me. Please continue to comment and give kudos to keep me motivated, I live with this idea that my content is not good enough and I struggle with confidence to post.
> 
> Also big thank you to KingpinCobblepot @ ao3 for being my patient betareader and editor, this fic is looking way better thanks to you <3


	3. Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed present Oswald with a peace offering but it is not appreciated and all goes horribly wrong...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!
> 
> ***Contains explit described suicide attempt.***
> 
>  
> 
> This is a extra heavy chapter, especially the last bit.  
> I've updated the fic with new tags with warnings but I will notify here too.  
> Sorry if anyone is mad that the notes carry spoilers but this fic all in all is tough and the safety of my readers is most important, I do not wanna end up accidentally triggering someone. If you are worried about reading and what the chapter contain, feel free to contact me either directly here on ao3 or @ insanekingy on tumblr.

A few weeks had passed and Oswald was starting to get better, good enough to be able to stand and walk around a bit, yet not without difficulty.

 

He did not speak of what he had witnessed during his first few days, seeing Ed in such obvious despair and inner torment. In events after seeing the bandages he had attempted to go easier on him. It was exhausting constantly being snarky anyhow, best justification he got.

Seeing the bandages eventually disappeared, even though he never saw Ed in short sleeves again, he hoped the bad habit had ended.

 

Needing to get stronger in order to escape, something that was still on his highest priority. Survival was all that mattered, and if he needed to pretend to accept this in order to deceive Ed into thinking he had forgiven him, so be it.

He was still the man who had torn down his empire and literary shot him to death. Nothing he had anticipated from the man he picked up from Arkham to be his closest in command not even a year ago.

What he didn’t want to admit to himself, was that he had been enjoying the recent times a great deal, just the two of them in the manor. On the other hand, Ed wasn’t for once the constant chatterbox of various facts. His former chief of staff mostly kept a blank stare into the nearest surface, but always close by Oswald in case he needed anything. Clearly not yet back to his usual self.

 

It was all fairly peaceful given the circumstances, that is, until Ed brought home a “gift”.

 

One thing that had not gone unnoticed was Oswald’s growing impatience and boredom, just sitting around doing nothing useful was quite frustrating for the otherwise very busy kingpin. In terms of this, Ed must have had some sort of revelation regarding their last time together like this, when Oswald had been his depressed self after his mother’s death. 

The Penguin thought this was more for Edward to cheer himself up, than any other reason, an attempt to tear down the walls and bring them closer once again.

Something that ended up heavily backfiring. 

 

“Do you like it?”

Edward was wearing what was probably the first smile for weeks, not so much cheerful since the… Incident.

He was excited, almost skipping in his spot standing next to a chair strategically placed in front of Oswald’s bed.

 

“What’s this?”

Oswald asked with a puzzled expression. A hint of concern mixed in about the motive behind the man tied up next to him, wearing a sack over his head, muffled sounds coming from inside.

It all felt… Uncanny familiar, and for this particular situation, not a good kind.

 

Ed turned his gaze to the floor, something he seemed to do almost constantly lately, afraid to meet Oswald’s pale eyes to see his own guilt and remorse reflected in them.

“Uhm… Well it’s a gift. I suppose a peace offering of sort.    
I know you’ve enjoyed this kind of diversion in the past.”

He had been so sure Oswald would shine up, pleased with the reference on how they first bonded. The intimacy of watching the lights go out in a man as they claimed the experience of taking a life together, an act that could only be shared with someone whom you trusted enough not to judge or call you in. It might just be what they needed to ease the tension.

Ed could feel himself trailing off down the memory lane, this was the right call, he knew it. It had to be, because if it wasn’t, what else would be left of them?

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Already dreading where this conversation might head, Oswald threw off his blanket and headed towards the door.

 

Small steps followed him as Ed observed with a puzzled curiosity.

“I… No…?”

 

With the notion that Ed wasn’t planning to leave him alone, he stops and turns around to face him and get it over with. After that he’s out of there, probably for good this time.

“Out of all things you could think of, you believe this would have been the most welcome approach for exculpation?” 

 

Ed merely squirmed uncomfortably, almost frozen into place, eyes once again glued to the floor.

 

“Oh for the love of… ED! Look at me.”

 

The hope lingering in the sentence made him peek up.

 

For the first time during his entire… Hospitalisation of sort, Oswald met Ed’s eyes directly. He internally swore from the sight of the puppy like big brown eyes, begging for forgiveness and attention.    
No, it was all an act and Oswald was better than falling for a simple trap like that.

“Tell me, for real this time. Why did you bring me here? Why did you save me when you made it so clear that it was over for good?”

One, straightforward honest question. If he could truthfully answer that, there might be a chance that Oswald could… Reconsider his motives.

 

“That… You don’t like your gift?”

Avoid the question, Edward thought to himself. Under no circumstances could he let him find out his true intentions, not yet. He had to play this perfectly according to plan if he would have any chance in a seemingly impossible situation.

 

Oswald’s expression grew sour very fast. That’s it, he blew it. He had his chance of penitence and he had made his choice very clear.

“This isn’t about your sentimental attempts of redemption, Ed. Stop snaking your way out of this!  
For once in your life, try not to speak in riddles.”

 

“You… Don’t know anything.”

No, don’t do it. His own mind was screaming, sensing where this was headed. His already fragile psyche was hurt, the pain materializing as uncut fury from all the built up heart ache and obstacles. 

 

“I don’t? Then please, Mr. Nygma, if you’re so clever as you like to point out at every single opportunity. Enlighten me.”

Oswald did nothing to hide the mockery behind his smirk, he was tired of trying to play nice towards Ed. If he was so tortured, if there was a real reason behind his actions lately, he could man up and say it. 

Perhaps it had all been a act, the bandages and all, to win Oswald’s sympathy in a effort to trick his confidence back. 

Somewhere deep inside the prospect of Ed having underestimated Oswald just as much as everyone always did, hurt him. Despite this, he would pay for it, more grim than anyone.

Passion is the greatest fuel to hatred, after all. 

 

The last drop fell into the already filled to brink glass that was Edward’s mind. Like a switch that goes off when the system overloaded, throwing all logic out the window, leaving only petty provocation.

“You claimed to love me and yet you decided to kill her, didn’t even stop to consider that you could have just told me? 

Thinking I had just moved on because of the fact I could never have you?

That didn’t even occur to your self righteous brain did it?”

 

“Whatever game you think you’re currently playing, Edward. It is not funny.”

 

Fury built up within Ed, frantic desperation of being understood, only met with sarcasm and a attitude did not lay well with him in his fragile state.

“Oh so this is a game? You believe everything I do is a game, fun? A RIDDLE? That’s all you think there is to me?”

 

“You don’t get to tell me what I see in anyone.”

He snapped.

 

“But you clearly think you know me, when in fact it’s becoming more and more obvious that you don’t.  
Are you listening to me, Oswald? I didn’t. Love her. And in all honestly I’m not sure she loved me either. Neither of them.  
I thought I did, I admit as much. Infatuated, yes, but love?”

Ed felt oddly indifferent, with a uneasy feeling this was just the calm before the storm brewing.

 

Oswald’s bewildered expression spoke the volumes he did not dare to express.

It sounded like a confession, but that was nothing that he dared to hope for. After everything he couldn’t let himself fall back into the pit, to be tricked by his only irritating weakness. It’s repeated presence got him in trouble. 

 

“Very convenient that you don’t have any snarky remark after that acknowledgment.   
Don’t you know that the best way to reveal a liar is to catch them off guard and at a loss for words.”

Shocking the Penguin was nothing that was easily done, so Ed felt peculiarly superior. For a moment the world seemed to lose its sense of reality, he recognized it as the all too familiar derealization but for this instant it was a welcome sensation. 

What he was about to do required a bit of intoxication to carry out, whether it was supplied by his own mind or an outside source didn’t really matter.

 

“I am just, overthrown by your sheer ignorance.”

He didn’t know what Ed was brewing but this was beyond what he could have ever imagined him to think up. It was so stupid that he could almost appear to be truthful. Almost.

 

There was no stopping now, this was not the time Ed had planned for this speech but he had to keep going, if he would ever stand a chance of gaining forgiveness.

“Far too often, I was reminded of the punishment awaiting for those who don’t stand in the straight line. Denial became my greatest asset to keep safe, and my greatest enemy for robbing me of my possible connections.”

 

“This is Gotham, Ed. No one cares. That you would even consider hiding behind such petty excuses and expect me to believe it, demonstrates just how truly deranged you currently are.”

 

“I’m not blind, Oswald. I was aware of your, what I hoped were feelings for me. Despite this I was taken aback when Miss Kean indicated such.    
Quite frankly, Oswald. Your love frightened me, the pure intensity of the passion you held for me shook me to my very core. Not knowing what to make of such force.”

Having never been loved before, he didn’t know what to make out of it. The only way Ed ever learnt to deal with uncertainty, being so used to the certainty of facts, was to simply get rid of it. Feelings were a mess he never figured out what to make out of.

 

“How long did you have to think about that one? This poor sullen confession. Do you take me for a fool?   
You have clearly lost your touch, thinking I would fall for this and run back to you. Only to feel the dagger dig into my heart this time.”

 

“I know it doesn’t weigh much, because there’s no coming back from what I did. But I wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and that I miss you.   
I was blind then, but I see with clear eyes now, as vivid as if someone was prying my eyes open, forcing me to really look, finally acknowledging it.

The things we have been through since the night we met, when I caught you in my arms and took you home. Didn’t it mean anything?”

 

“What Ed? You think you can come here seeking my pity, when it was you who did the ultimate betrayal?  
I may have killed that woman, but I did it to protect you, spare you the pain.  
You however, killed me for your own selfish revenge.   
_ Love is sacrifice  _ huh Ed?  _ Putting someone else’s needs and happiness before your own  _ Maybe you should stop being such a hypocrite and listen to your own advice.  
It is too late. You had your chance and it has passed, you blew it out along with my guts.”

  
Oswald may have loved Ed so much it damaged all his logical thinking at the time, but he had regained his hard shell of never trusting anyone. That love bled out through the open hole Ed had put in him. What he felt now was nothing else than stubborn lingering remnants of was used to be complete trust and adoration.

  
  
Not being able to stand listening to another word of the deceiving, lying mouth of Edward Nygma, Oswald refrained from sticking around for a reply and simply swept on his coat on his way out the front door, which he slammed loudly.

  
  
  


Ed was just left standing dumbfounded in the middle of the lounge, heart in pieces.

What just happened? This was not what was supposed to happen according to his carefully thought out plan. Disregarding the fact he had carried it out prematurely. 

There was a lot to mend since his far too late realization that he did indeed love Oswald back, which had required some kind of scheme to win back his trust and possibly, his affection. Clearly, he had failed at that as well. He kept letting Oswald down, the only one through his entire life that he could admit honestly cared for him. He was right, what had he given in return? Ed had promised he would do anything for Oswald, and he shot him, killed everything ever built between them with that very bullet.

He had told him that love is sacrifice, that love was Oswald’s greatest weakness. Denial was Ed’s.

Time to make up his mind.

  
  
  


With heavy steps Ed made his way up the mighty staircase of the manor, a rope thrown over his shoulders and a knife in his hands. 

It wasn’t hard to fasten the rope in the hook that had most likely held a lamp at some point, his tall frame could easily reach and pull it through, finally cutting the rope to desired length.

 

Edward climbed up on the narrow railing, holding onto the rope for extra balance as he looked down, imagining how Oswald would enter the room to see his lifeless vessel.

Would he cry? Would he feel remorse? Did he actually care at all?

 

In the end, he was right, of course. Ed was selfish. If there was even the slightest ounce of love for him left in Oswald, this would leave him shattered. But in that very moment he couldn’t care less. Far beyond hurt and the hopelessness just eating him alive, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see for the tears burning in his eyes, his rapid breathing blurring his vision further, fogging up his glasses.

No, there was no other solution left. The only chance he had, he ruined just like everything else he touched. Edward Nygma was no enigma of the world, he was poison as malignant as the man who had given him life. Oh how low he had gone, to the point of actually comparing himself to the man he harboured nothing else than pure hatred towards.

 

His fingers trembled and he was swaying, struggling to keep his balance. This was harder than he had thought, he was determined, but the part of the human psyche that had some matter of self preservation grasped for straws to keep him on this miserable agonizing world.

He had to once again remind himself he was doing the world a favor, this way he could never hurt anyone when his shattered broken mind couldn’t comprehend how to react to reject and disarray.

Needing to ground himself he let himself focus on the moment wholeheartedly, one last time. Let himself feel just how bad it was, why he was doing this.

The pain flowed through his veins like fire, burning his insides to the point he struggled to move, his breathing was shallow like he was drowning with each breath. His head was throbbing, overloaded by the stress hormone cortisol. Heart beating so fast that he thought that he could possibly have a stroke before he had a chance to carry this through.

Oswald didn’t love him, Ed repeated the statement until his mind and actions felt clearer. Convinced that for the first time in his life, he was doing the right thing. The clarity was intoxicating, making him crack a wicked painful smirk. All the times he had dreamed of this very moment, all the times he had tried but couldn’t carry out. This was the time he would succeed, he could feel it, and he welcomed the bliss of relief it carried with.

 

“Goodbye, Oswald. Thank you. For being the riddle I couldn’t solve.”

He secured the loop around his neck, took a single shallow breath, eyes closed, before stepping over the edge of the railing. 

  
  
  


As the evening was brewing, the warm refuge of the autumn sun slowly descending, Oswald finally returned to the manor after a long walk much too grueling for his still weak condition.

He settled down by the smaller table located in the kitchen, not yet ready to go back to his bed in fear of Ed pressuring his never ending care for him. It was getting ridiculous, like his own personal nurse, and not in a good way.

 

The walk had been anything else than refreshing, and did little to ease his enraged state. If anything it had only raised more feelings that he rather not have at all.

In the heat of the moment, blinded by his own selfish hurt, he had completely disregarded the glimpse he had gotten a while ago. He still didn’t know the cause or reasoning behind the bandages and the wounds they hid. What had made Ed get so far off the edge that he would go to such lengths, creating harm to himself so deep they would soak through even thick binding like that. It couldn’t possibly have been faked.

 

What use would getting away to plot his revenge be if Ed just ended up killing himself? Another harsh reasoning covering up for his real thoughts. Now more than ever. 

What if he had been telling the truth? Did Ed actually carry feelings for Oswald? Was that what it was all about? Then why, the question always came back to the very same thing. WHY had he killed him?

Something as simple as growing up in a world and family where acceptance to whom you may or may not love didn’t even occur to Oswald, having spent his entire life in the rather indifferent nature of Gotham. Despite it’s flaws, it was hard to find a more accepting city in terms of being who you are. After all, it’s harder to top some of the criminals residing there, along with some other quirky personalities.

  
  
  


What was that noise? Penguin’s trail of thought was interrupted at the sound of a loud crack echoing through the manor. 

 

The rope which Ed had hung over the staircase had snapped, resulting in his body hitting the hard tiles, making them split and break.

 

Oswald, unknowing of what Edward had been up to, stopped for a moment to listen, trying to locate where the sound had come from, before deciding it was worth examining. The last thing he needed was a simple burglar that had decided to loot the wrong manor, or perhaps that “gift” of Edward had managed to escape after the argument, creating mayhem to his beautiful home. 

 

Disgruntled by the continued list of unpleasantries he hobbled out the lounge, towards the hallway leading upstairs which he guessed as the location of the incident. 

The slow staggering turned into a plunging forward when his eyes landed on the limp body on the floor. Blood leaked out of a nasty wound on Edward’s head caused by the tip of a broken tile. His left arm was suspended in a skew, unnatural direction. 

 

“Ed! ED! EDWARD!”

Oswald cried out in panic, trying to get a response, desperately needing him to be alive. In that very moment, all the doubt and reasoning that seemed so important a minute ago, was forgotten in the current crisis.

 

Ed’s eyelids flickered and he squinted through the shattered glasses. What happened? Was that Oswald yelling his name in a manner that wasn’t spite? He must have succeeded then, although he had not expected death to be quite as painful.

His eyes fell shut again.

 

“Ed! No! Stay with me!”

Oswald pulled up the injured man, shaking him back to consciousness.

 

“Please… Please, you cannot do this to me. I’m sorry, I…”

Tears began to drip, spilling down onto what’s left of Ed’s glasses. 

 

Edward watched him with a groggy expression, still not entirely alert.

Oswald was… Crying?

He reached back to touch back of his head, hair sticky from the blood soaked through it. Groaning heavily he sat up and tried to push his shoulder back in place, holding his hand over his mouth to muffle the cry of pain when he does.

 

Too overwhelmed by the whole event and everything that had happened lately, Oswald just sat at the broken, bloody floor, hands covering his face in a failed attempt to hide the tears streaming down, dripping down into the blood spill.

 

With trembling, wary fingers Ed wrapped his arms around the crying man before him, not certain if it was appropriate, if he was allowed. He could just as likely get a dagger through his chest for letting his guard down, knowing Oswald wanted anything else than to have him around or near.

To his staggering surprise, the shorter man clutched to Edward in return, digging his nails down into the fabric of his blazer. A firm, desperate embrace, as if Oswald had never had any real physical connection of two humans. Not since his mother, or father, since the treacherous hug Edward had given him.

He had every right not to trust a touch from Ed, yet here he was, holding on to him as the earth beneath him would scatter if he let go.

For one, painfully wonderful moment, both men felt relief in the presence of each other. Like it was supposed to be, could have been. 

 

Perhaps it had been worth it? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you lived through that without crying, congrats! If not... *offers some napkins*
> 
> For those that keeps hoping that this fic will get lighter with each chapter and is proven wrong again and again... You might get your will through in the next one... Maybe.


	4. Rebound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed and Oswald struggle to grasp any clarity of the previous night of terror, harsh words and the embrace it had ended in.
> 
> There is also an unexpected development presented to the two...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry, I am so so sorry. I started to write this and publish once a week only to disappear over two months.  
> My health haven't been great and I really REALLY struggled to make this story come together as now in the end there's a lot of things to take into matter. I can only hope I managed to piece it together.
> 
> This is far from my best chapter and it's not very long but perhaps it will still be in your liking.  
> I also decided to post without a beta this time so it's probably a messssss since english isn't my first language.
> 
> Happy reading!

No one slept that night, too shaken up for anything else of value, even simple talking. Ed was afraid of being left alone, fearful for what he might do and still progressing what he had done, that he had survived. 

So to remain as near as possible, seeking the silent support of each other’s proximity, they just sat closely huddled together in one of the lounge couches. They attempted to keep a distance enough not to make it awkward, but naturally that wish fell flat with the lack of avoidance for such a matter. Not possible after the close embrace they had shared in the heat of the moment of the terror of last night, which still lingered in the air between them.

The only audible thing to be heard, echoing through the otherwise silent manor, were Oswald’s hushed sobs from his never drying tears.

He was a crier, there was no denying that, but he would normally put some restraint to the flow. This night, it continued to silently fall, his sleeves far since drenched after continually wiping the liquid streaks away.

 

As the morning sun painted the lounge in warm light, a rare scene in the normally dark and gloomy halls. Ed finally rose from his seat, making Oswald jump in response to what was the first movement in hours. In a hurry he once again wiped his eyes dry from tears, not that it helped much seeing they instantly filled up again. The skin around his eyes had gone red from constantly rubbing them clean through the night, blood vessels in the frail skin had broken, marked as tiny red freckles blending in with his share of real ones decorating his fair tone.

 

“You’re still injured and need your strength to heal, I’ll make some breakfast.”

Ed’s voice was harsh, still strained and sore from the impact made by the rope earlier. It was a wonder he had not broken his neck when it tightened around his throat… He ached all over, the fall had not been anywhere near kind to his body and he wondered if he might have broken a few ribs... He shaked the thought away, right now, his focus was needed to be on Oswald. His well being was all that mattered.

After all, without Oswald, Ed didn’t know how to go on by himself. Right now it felt like their entire existence depended on each other, perhaps it always had? Saving one another, time and time again.

 

Oswald wanted to stop him, run after and pull him into another tight hug, assure him of his safety, to drop his worries. For he was there for Ed, always would be. They had both done their share of mistakes but that’s all behind them now.

But more than anything he was terrified, of the feelings that had come floating back to the surface like a disposed body refusing to remain hidden, putting him back into the spotlight of danger of getting caught, getting hurt.

So he remained in the couch, trying to gain control over seemingly endless tears, possibly making up for all the times he held them in, of all the grief and frustration he had built up around Ed.

  
  


Nygma opened the fridge in search of something suitable for breakfast. Halfway through picking up the items onto the counter another flow of despair and sadness hit him, making his eyes tear up, blurring his vision and causing him to lose balance. He attempted to grip onto something to regain balance, but all he got a hold of were a stack of plates that came crashing down along with him. Leaving him on the floor in a broken mess, hands lacerated by the shards shattered around him.

 

What only felt like seconds later, Oswald came into view, lunging in with an expression of pure terror painted over him. Having heard the loud noise of what had been the plates crashing around Ed had made him fear the worst. That once again Ed had attempted to hurt himself, fear that because Oswald had left him alone just a moment, he would have lost him all over again. 

 

Oswald stopped just in front of the porcelain shards and watched Ed groan of pain from the few pieces that had cut into his hands. He could feel his chest tightening, heart clenching as he attempted to swallow the pain threatening to float back up to the surface.

As of the night before, the moment he laid his eyes onto Ed’s thankfully live ones. His hatred had instantly been replaced with those feelings he did not even dare to acknowledge, but oh so painfully aware of. They had always been there and always would, it was just a matter of how much more heartbreak he was willing to let himself endure for the man who refused to admit it. 

Even now, the last few weeks Ed had seemed to be making up for his deeds, but he saw no resentment of regret for breaking his heart. 

Regretting to kill his best friend--, or even soulmate if you prefer, --was one thing. Confessing feelings of affection, was another, and one that would never happen. 

Even despite the incident last night, where Oswald could have sworn Ed’s weak and staggering apology also served as a kind of acknowledgement. Although that was nothing he would allow himself to hope for.

 

Embarrassment showered over Ed who scrambled to his feet. 

He loathed himself for yet again causing Oswald to look at him with such a broken expression, like Ed’s current state was leaking onto him and staining them both.

The disappointment he must be for the other man. Oswald had been able to sense greatness in Nygma, or so he had told him. To see him deteriorate down to this pitiful state must really had him looking at Ed with aversion, it was a wonder he was even still here at all. 

Why did he care? After the recent happenings, what he had told Edward… Oswald didn’t believe Ed’s words, that was obvious. The Penguin probably thought the confession was just another trick to hurt him more, that was how Oswald worked. Never allowing himself to feel, to be hurt. Except that one time.. Except for Ed… And he had ruined it, he had been too late to realize and now the moment had passed. All that was lingered was hatred and diminish. 

 

Oswald took another look at Edward seeming to be breaking down in his own mind as well, and suddenly it was like it was all crashing down all at once. 

Desperate anguish flooded him until it seeped over the edge and filled his eyes with tears once again, flowing over and control to stop it far since lost. Letting out a single sob he faltered, but Ed hurried to catch Oswald into his arms just in time for the man to avoid a painful meeting with the tile floor of the kitchen. 

 

It would seem like they were both broken and in desperate need of repair, starving for honest compassion.

Even if they believed it, allowed themselves hope for the affection-- did they dare to even call it love? --of one another. Given their past, life choices that had led them there were… Anything but kind and loving. How could you build a relationship on that? How could you keep anything steady during a constant roller coaster of passion, hatred, betrayal and danger? Never knowing how tomorrow would look, never truly trusting the other one to stay, or wouldn’t slit your throat over the smallest disputes.    
Where in a regular relationship a mistake would be talked through, they would start a war on the streets of Gotham and let blood float for their own personal disagreements.

 

Edward held Oswald still, a silent embrace not too much unlike the previous night. But there was something left unsaid this time, an atmosphere sharply tense you could cut yourself on it if not careful. 

 

The feeling of each of their bodies pressed closely together... Somewhere deep inside, all of the pain soaring through them seemed to melt away in the arms of one another, like for the first time something finally felt right.    
This time the touch had not been about life and death, the deafening fear of losing the one dearest to you.    
It had been voluntary, chosen by them both, craved by them. They seeked the comfort as they seeked each other, whenever they were ready to admit it or not. 

 

Something was simmering inside, and Oswald was starting to take notice. 

He struggled to breath, as he was drowning all over again. They were so close, almost being able to feel Ed’s hot breath against him. 

The other man seemed to look back at him with similar intensity. His cheek heated up with the unfamiliar proximity, anticipation of how the unknown was exciting, perhaps even a bit intoxicating.

Oswald swallowed, this was it. This was his chance and he had a feeling it would be the only one he would ever get, so he better take it and run for it. Before his heart had opportunity to escape him, remind him once again why he could never allow himself to be this feeble. Then why did weakness feel so satisfying?

So he leaned in to the temptation, closing the distance even further, slowly parting his lips. Oh god, this was really happening? 

He didn’t even know if he knew how to do it. This was nothing he had considered to want in the first place, and with the chain of events leading up to that bullet… Something he was certain would never yearn for again, yet alone have another chance at.

Nevertheless, here he was, merely inches from the sweet lips belonging to the love of his life.

 

Ed couldn’t believe his eyes. What had changed to suddenly allow a simple aid in recovering balance from a fall, lead to a embrace so loaded with all that they had wanted to deny? All the suffering, the regret, words of hatred and desperate need of affirmation, it had all led to this very moment that seemingly came out of nowhere.    
Was this how it worked for normal people, suddenly everything just click and you let go, tired of fighting it anymore? Because that sure felt like what was currently happening.   
That something so pure and real would come from the river of blood that he was certain would have been the end... Wounded up being only the start of something he had only been able to see in his most sweetest of dreams.

_ Surely, this must be a figment of his wicked imagination? _

  
  
  


Harvey tried the front door and when he found it open, he simply let himself in. He couldn’t believe no one had looked here earlier, surely the mayor’s own home should have been the first place to check? 

Shaking off the thoughts of the incapacity in his fellow coworkers detective intuitions, he wandered further into the manor, cautiously looking around with his gun up and ready. 

You could never be too sure when it came to Penguin, surely he had to have the place swarming with goons. 

But the halls echoed empty, that is, until he heard a what sounded like something fragile breaking, coming from the kitchen.

 

“Hey, Penguin. You here? I’ve looked all over the city, do you have any idea how hard it have been to find your pinstriped ass?”

 

Following the sound, he walked right into a scene much too delicate and intimate for his own taste. Normally, the closeness of two people didn’t bother him so much. It wasn’t that they were both men, no. It was the absurd sight of the two ruthless criminals and murderers looking at each other like birds were chirping and rainbows and glitter hovered around them.

It was quite a repulsing spectacle all together. 

 

At the entrance of the detective, the two men were awaken from their tense bubble. The hazy dream in which they had been lost in each other broken, fractures spreading along the edges as reality sped back to them, realizing just what was happening, what had almost occurred.   
Sooner or later reality always caught up, the truth was so unbearable thick and toxic yet so smothering true.

They, them together, was nothing that could be, not yet at least. Not without wounding up even more broken than they began.

  
So they abruptly parted, increased their distance with still flushed faces and struggled to come down back to earth and pay attention to the man calling for them.

 

“Whoa there! Look, I don’t give a shit what you to lovebirds like to do in private but can you make an attempt to peer away from each other’s faces and listen for a moment?”

 

Penguin cleared his throat in an effort to regain some authority and respect.

“Bullock. This is my house, and I have no memory of inviting you here for unsubstantiated accusations.”

 

“You’ve been missing for weeks for christs sake! It IS my business when the mayor does a heinous tv interview and then suddenly goes AWOL.”

 

“To be fair, the abbreviation AWOL stand for “absent without  _ official _ leave”, which doesn’t exclude the possibility of him being absent without having had any official announcement for the sake of his own protection.” Ed sternly pointed out.

 

“I think notifying the citizens of a treat towards their mayor is a requirement to avoid total panic, instead of just letting him disappear without a word!

Anyway, I’m not in the mood for another of your smart remarks, Nygma.”

 

Ed made a grimace but remained silent to allow Bullock to continue.

 

“Listen now.

Ever since the Tetch virus was released the city have gone mad, the people are begging their mayor to come back and sort it out.    
The GCPD can’t handle this level of madness. Look, Jim doesn’t even know I’m here. The last thing he would do is to lower his standards to ask you for help and I must admit I’m not liking it myself but I know when I’ve reached my limits. 

You pledged to help this city, well get back here and do your damn job!

With no mayor and Barbara failing to keep authority to run the underworld, it is just chaos. 

You’re the only one mad enough to handle this level of insanity.”

 

Oswald allowed himself to scoff for a moment.   
“Barbara, in charge of the underworld? What did you expect more than a downright fiasco.”

 

“That’s beside the point. With the virus running wild there’s just too-”   
  


Cutting Harvey short Oswald interrupted to ask. “What virus?”

 

“For gods sake Penguin how deep into blissful ignorance have you allowed yourself to get while you’ve been here blushing like a schoolboy with your employee!”   
  
The detective snapped back.

 

“It is none of your business what I do in my free time. Regardless it’s not like I choose to take an unannounced leave because I WAS SHOT AND THROWN INTO A RIVER.”    
Without caring much what the detective thought Oswald gave an annoyed glance towards Nygma.

 

Harvey rolled his eyes, not in the slightest interested in what kind of sick game those two lunatics liked to play, he had come here for one thing and that was for the single thing left to do in order to save the city.

“Ok fine. Here’s the deal.    
Jervis Tetch’s sister had some kind of freak toxic in her blood and her even freakier brother stole her body from the precinct to drain her body for the blood. However that went sideways and he got put back into Arkham.

But some other lunatic group got their hands on the blood and developed it so they could distribute it over the city. 

Now every other citizen is running wild on this kind of druglike virus that induce strength but also make them all kinds of wack.

We’re working on a antidote, but without some of the pure base product of her blood we’re missing the key ingredient or some shit and we need help. 

Words have it that Strange is hiding somewhere with Fish Mooney of all people, and that he had some connection to the group who made the virus. 

So if we could find that mad man maybe we could figure this mess out.

 

It’s been a two days since the initial spread and even longer since a few individual cases, the city is starting to really lose it’s footing. If something isn’t done soon I fear there won’t be any Gotham city for you to come back to rule soon. So I would suggest it is in your best interest to do a damn thing about it. If you ever planned to care about what happens to Gotham, I would say now is the time to prove it.”

 

After his explanation Harvey couldn’t bother sticking around for another embarrassing excuse or snarky commentary from the two, and simply turned around to make his exit back out to his car.

  
  


After Bullock shut the door behind him and left the two criminals alone once again, there was a profound tense silence. 

Ed turned to face the shorter man but not with words but with a pleading expression of hope and understanding. They would need to put whatever was starting to ignite between them, along with all the words that yet were to be said, the things that needed to be forgiven, on hold to deal with the current situation in the city that was their home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be the last chapter but... Things change. I have started the fifth and final (for sure) chapter but I can't say for certain when I will be able to finish it.
> 
> Please comment if you care about this story, I was so sure that there was no point in going on which is why I almost didn't post this chapter... I really need to do something about my confidence but I started to write out of escapism and the concept of showing it to others can be intimidating at times.  
> Sorry for my rambling...


End file.
